


The First and Last Words

by SnowyDesolation



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:53:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3442802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyDesolation/pseuds/SnowyDesolation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soul mate/tattoo AU</p>
<p>Just because you have a soul mate, doesn't necessarily mean that you'll ever be with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First and Last Words

It started out like a day just like any other... as all tragedies do.  
Steve was on his way to the shopping center to get some new clothes. Standing up for what was right meant getting beaten up... which led to having torn clothes. Up until last year, he had his mom to sew his clothes for him. Unfortunately, she was no longer with him, and he had absolutely no idea how to sew.  
Her dying words to him were ones he would carry with him forever, though: “a strong heart will take you further than any physical strength. A strong heart means you'll never quit...” To him, that meant that he had to continue to do what was right, and he couldn’t quit, couldn’t back down, he had to keep getting up. Which also meant, his clothes had to keep getting ripped.  
Doing the right thing was getting to be really expensive.

At his favourite clothing store, he tried on a new white dress shirt, and black dress pants. It made him look much better than the ones he had came wearing, which were very much worn out. Sadly, he didn't even have them that long. Part of him hoped that someone would recognize him from all of the times he had been in, and offer him a discount or something. How quickly he wore out the clothes was getting to be ridiculous.  
Rolling up the sleeves, he observed himself in the mirror on the outside of the changing room door. It was hot, and he wanted to make sure that if he bought the long sleeve shirt, it would look okay with the sleeves rolled up.  
Apparently, it did, because it caught the attention of the lady who was working there. That, or she just wanted to make sure he bought it, so she could keep getting paid. That was more than likely the case.  
“My, you look snazzy in that,” she observed, standing beside him.  
“Thanks,” he murmured, awkwardly standing there. At least, he felt like it was awkward. Of course, he was done looking at himself... he never spent long in the mirror, but with her there, well, he couldn’t just walk away, that would be rude.  
“That’s some good advice, you got there.”  
“Yeah,” he agreed, not even needing to confirm what it was they were talking about. What else could be, aside from his apparent soul mate’s first words, tattooed along the inside of his forearm? It was always complimented. It got a bit annoying, because the only thing people liked about him, wasn’t even something _he_ said... but he could never stay mad, because it _was_ good advice - and though it never been said to him, yet, it always helped him during tough times. He wasn’t particularity fond of being called ‘kid,’ though... but what could he do about it? “It is.”  
“Seems like you don’t listen to it, much, though,” she stated, observing all of his cuts, bruises, scars, and torn clothes. That earned her a glare, and she only shrugged in response, before walking away.  
Heading back into the change room, he changed back into his old clothes, and brought the new ones up to the front counter to pay for them. For some reason, it surprised the lady that he had the exact amount of money on hand.

Afterwards, he made his way through the small food court to get to the exit. A sudden bang stopped him in his tracks. Standing near the small bank teller was a man with a gun, which he had obviously just fired, no doubt as a warning. Everyone around began scattering; running for cover in either nearby stores, or hiding underneath tables. No one was able to escape due to the other armed man guarding the doors.  
Steve was the only unmoving person. He was paralyzed with fear and indecision.  
 _A strong heart will take you further than any physical strength_. Was he supposed to stand up to him? Even the strongest looking men in the area were cowering away in fear. He could stand up to another man, _any_ other man, but... a gun? He... he couldn’t... However... never quitting, never giving up or backing down; it meant that he _had_ to. _Somebody_ had to stand up to him, and it seemed like he was the only one brave (or stupid) enough to do it.  
“H.... Hey, put the gun down,” he stammered out, unsure it he had even spoken loudly enough for the gunman to hear. When the man turned to face him, he was certain he had definitely caught his attention. Oh, he regretted doing that. That was stupid. That was _so_ stupid. That was the biggest mistake he could ever make, and as the gun turned towards him, he was sure that it was the last mistake he would ever make.

 

* * *

 

 As per usual, when Bucky woke up, he took off all of his clothes, and looked in his mirror at every angle possible, searching for a tattoo. After he turned eighteen, he was supposed to have one... but he didn’t. Which meant one of three likely things:

One: something was going to happen to him, and he was going to lose his voice before he meant his soul mate.  
Two: He was going to die alone.  
Three: His parents were lying to him about his age, and he wasn’t eighteen, yet.  
As unlikely option three was, he hoped it was the one that was true. Losing his voice or dying alone... neither of those were favourable.  
Brushing it off as best as he could, he continued with his morning routine of getting ready to go out.  
Just like every other Saturday, he was going to go to the mall with his sister, Rebecca, and his boyfriend, Sebastian. It was hard to go out with him in the time era they lived in, since such a thing was so frowned upon. That’s why they needed Rebecca. She was pretending to date Sebastian, so that Bucky and him could have a date. Of sorts.  
It was a conflicting relationship, due to the tattoos. Sebastian’s was one that wasn’t overly unique; ‘hey, can I buy you a drink?’ which is exactly... well, _almost_ exactly what Bucky said, which was ‘hey _there_ , can I buy you a drink?’  
Since Bucky didn’t have a tattoo, they wanted to assume that maybe the tattoos got glitched for them. They were great together. In fact, Bucky wanted to ask him to move in with him. They had only been together for ten months, but... Bucky had a feeling they were going to be together a _lot_ longer, and he couldn’t wait for things to get serious between them; he was so excited, that he had already arranged his room so that there was room for all of Sebastian's stuff.

 

After showering, getting dressed, styling his hair, and possibly overdosing in cologne, he was ready, and headed downstairs to meet Rebecca.  
“I thought you had overslept; I was about to - _oh dear lord_ , what is that smell? Did you just bathe in that?”  
Stopping in his tracks, Bucky stared at her, worry filling his body. His intention was to smell really nice, but not have it too strong, and, well, evidently, he had failed. “Too much?”  
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, not wanting him to cause them to possible be any later. “It’s fine. C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

  
Once they met up with Sebastian at the front entrance, they all headed inside together to get a bite to eat; Rebecca on Sebastian’s left, holding his hand, and Bucky on his right, murmuring inappropriate things to him.  
Less than thirty seconds later, a gun fired. They all turned to run for the exit, but a second armed man was already guarding it. So, Bucky did the only sensible thing he could do: he grabbed Rebecca’s hand out from Sebastian’s, and ducked under the nearest table with her. As soon as Sebastian joined, he gave Bucky a death glare.  
“What?!”  
“What the hell was that?”  
“What was what? The gunshot?!”  
“No, you just left me to _die_.”  
“ _What are you talking about_?”  
“Our lives are all in danger and you don’t even _try_ to save your _soul mate_?!”  
At that very moment, Bucky knew that Sebastian wasn’t the one for him. Expecting him to save some guy over his sister was... absolutely absurd, even if they _were_ soul mates, and at this point, he was glad they weren't. They were only able to get together because of her; he wasn’t going to thank her by letting her die. Bucky would never choose anyone over her. “Get out from under our table,” he growled.  
“ _Excuse me_?”  
“You’re excused. _Fuck off_.”  
Sebastian gave off the most offended look that Bucky had ever seen, before he got up and left without another word; no doubt realizing that he had pushed it too far.  
“You didn’t have to do that,” Rebecca whispered.  
“Don’t start,” he muttered.  
“I saw you... putting everything you own on half of the room. I _know_ what you were going to do.”  
“I don’t want to talk about it. Just... shut up and don’t draw attention to yourself.”  
Oddly enough, as soon as he said that, he heard another voice coming from somewhere nearby. Some blonde man... actually telling the guy to put the gun down. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he sighed, beginning to get up.  
“Bucky!” Rebecca angrily whispered, tugging on his shirt, “what do you think you’re doing?!”  
“Not letting ‘em kill himself.” Getting out from under the table, he opened his mouth to tell the blonde idiot to stand down - closing it when he saw the gun aimed at him.  
 _Oh, for Christ’s sake._ Quickly, he leaped over to him, shoving him out of the way as the gun was fired. The scrawny blonde was, thankfully, not injured, but instead, Bucky was; the bullet hit his chest, much too close to his heart to be able to survive.  
As soon as he hit the floor, everything changed like a switch had been flicked. A hit like that was _obviously_ going to hurt, but he could barely feel it; yet, simultaneously, he felt as weak as the blonde looked. That blonde, who was leaning over top of him, looking horrified.  
For some reason, he felt like that blonde was the one who needed some sort of assurance... but what was he supposed to say to a complete stranger, when it was _him_ who was dying? There was only one possible thing he could think to say, and that was “take care of yourself, kid... stay strong.” He only just barely got that out, before beginning to cough up blood.  
“You idiot!” a very close female voice shouted... or so he thought. All of the noise around him was starting to muffle, becoming incoherent - and his vision was beginning to do funny things.  
The blonde ripped the sleeve of his shirt off, and put it against his wound. It was while he was holding it there that Bucky saw the tattoo on his forearm. Through his blurred, double vision, he managed to read it. It read the exact thing that he had just spoken.  
Glancing up, he looked at his face, using his last moments of consciousness to look at the man he should have spent forever with. He was staring back at him, with such horror, despair, and realization in his eyes. He knew, too.  
Closing his eyes, he smiled. He finally understood why he didn’t have a tattoo... and as it turned out, there was another option. As unfavorable as this one was, too, he was at least glad that it was him, and not... oh, he didn’t even know his name...  
At least he got to spend the rest of his life with his soul mate... but what a cruel joke that was.

**Author's Note:**

> That moment when you die for your soul mate, before they even speak to you, or you even know their name.  
> Whoops.


End file.
